


Bully

by QueenHusband



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHusband/pseuds/QueenHusband
Summary: Yurim dreams of traveling the world one day, but one can only make it so far without pokemon. To make matters worse, fate is going out of its way to make an enemy out of Ballonlea's gym leader, a boy with no qualms about putting fools in their place.|#noncontober Day 29: Rape Fantasy|
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	Bully

**Author's Note:**

> Bede is ~16 at the start of this story.

The telly flickers to life with the push of a button as Yurim sinks further into the livingroom couch. His auntie's puttering about in the kitchen while Cutiefly flits about his ear. He doesn't bother telling it to stop because Cutiefly does whatever the hell it wants in this household, so he's learned to just slap a pillow to his ear and deal with it. The grainy picture of the telly gradually clears into some semblance of sense: two powerful trainers facing off in an enormous arena. One, the Champion of Galar, the other, their very own Ballonlean Gym Leader. To be honest, Bede is so much less intimidating on the telly, dressed in his cute pink uniform instead of the giant overcoat that hides his slender form. Sure he's grown over the past two years, but not that much has fundamentally changed. The Champion herself isn't much different, just shorter.

Yurim moves the pillow from the right to left ear in time with Cutiefly, who's just now catching on that its owner's nephew isn't listening to it.

"Ohh, how exciting," coos his auntie from right behind the couch, startling him. She's a lot paler than he is and a hundred times more optimistic. "That could be you, one day! If you'd just give it a try~"

"Quit joking," he mumbles, though not loud enough for her to hear as she's already returned to her stew pot. It's a rerun of last night's match. How exciting can it possibly be when you already know the results? He frowns, slumping further down the chair so his long black braid drags down the cushion. At twenty, he's never battled once and has no intention of starting now. He doesn't see the appeal. Why do people insist on clinging to old caveman ideals of strength and valor--all it is is cockfights. Even if he had the will, he lacks the talent and the know-how. There is, however, one thing he does envy... "Auntie, I'm stepping out for some fresh air."

"Take Cutiefly with you~"

"I know..." he mutters, shrugging on his black cardigan over the form-fitting yellow turtleneck and black cargo. The second his boots are laced up he's racing out the door with the little Pokemon on his tail. It follows him no matter what he says anyway. Outside is just as chilly and gloomy as it always is, the luminescent mushrooms dotting the village a poor substitute for the allure of city neon lights. He waves at some of the local kids jumping around a see-saw along his way to the woods. The mouth of the forest is gaping with the promise of twisting paths and fantastic beasts. Sensing his thoughts, Cutiefly's buzzing becomes ten times as annoying. Yurim stuffs his hands in his pockets with a childish pout, "Can you chill out? I just have to stay out of the tall grass, right?"

Wading through bushes isn't exactly appealing, much less the creepy woods outside Ballonlea, but Cutiefly seems to think he's seconds away from launching himself face-first into the nearest wild monster. It's annoying being babysat by a virtual baby pokemon, and he makes this known by gently swatting the little fairy away from his ear as he walks.

Glimwood Tangle isn't _that_ dangerous.

Yurim sticks to the well-beaten path, marveling at how _high_ up some of the ancient trees have grown. Long vines encircle them, sprouting vibrant flowers here and there that glow with a mysterious aura. Everything in these woods is mysterious. The further in he walks, the quieter it gets, till he's reached the end of the walkable clear path, and all he can hear is the flutter of Cutiefly's little wings. 

_Guess this is as far as I go_ , he muses, crouching down to inspect a particularly bulbous mushroom. 

He's about to touch the fungus when a twig snapping underfoot alerts him to a pair of glowing eyes up the hill. Immediately it feels like the woods got ten degrees colder as a shiver runs down his spine. Bolting to his feet, Yurim briskly retraces his steps. All this time, he could have sworn he'd been walking a straight path--there are only so many places to go that aren't patches of wilderness, but no matter how fast he walks, the bright light of Ballonlea remains hidden away. It's almost like the woods itself is hiding the exit, twisting and turning his path till he can see nothing but trees. Yurim slows to a stop, bending hands over knees to catch his breath. Cold sweat trickles down his face, his sides, as his round black eyes dart around, following shadows.

The glowing eyes have multiplied. Now, it's three pairs peering at him from the tall grass.

Heart hammering in his chest, Yurim whips around to find Cutiefly is nowhere in sight. "C-Cutiefly...? Cutiefly!" 

A loud hiss answers back, prompting him to slap a hand over his mouth.

He's alone.

Ok. Breathe. Think. Slow down. Yurim closes his eyes, trying his best to drown out the indistinct chattering. He opens them slowly, this time focusing on the ground. There is only one set of footprints barely visible in the dirt. He follows that set until he finds a fork in the "road" that he truly does not remember. His shoulders sag as tension melts away in waves--finally, he can get back. Maybe he'll find Cutiefly along the way... if he doesn't, his aunt will kill him.

He doesn't have long to fret over it, because a cold grip on his ankle ceases all thoughts--his body locks up right before the world flips upsidedown, landing painfully on his back. Spots flood his vision as more and more pointed fingers claw at his clothes, his arms, legs, even his boots. Impidimps are everywhere, prodding about his pockets, while a lone Morgrem watches from a distance--likely the pack leader. "Shit--Get off me!" they cackle in their own little language at his feeble protests. Ok, maybe the woods are a tad more dangerous than he gave them credit--"Ow!" One of the little cretins is tugging his braid and shaking it as if expecting pokedollars to come flying out. When that doesn't happen it growls, trying to drag him by the hair. 

That does it.

Yurim reaches up for the pokemon's little legs, missing them by a hair, but he does manage to kick away a few of the others. He's just managed to get up on all fours when Morgrem clacks its teeth, pushing off the tree it's been leaning on this whole time. The Impidimps scurry off him at once to make way for their leader, which only spikes Yurim's nerves. He's at eye-level with the thing, locked in a glare-off for a solid minute. Yurim's heart's racing--he can't begin to imagine what this thing plans to do--hell, he doesn't know what _he_ plans to do. He's almost glad Cutiefly isn't here, because there's no way it could stand up to all five... no, six of these things. He opens his mouth, ready to scream at it to scare it away when something suddenly spears him hitting the back of his throat. Even without a gag reflex, the sight of this thing's filthy hair penetrating his mouth is enough to make him want to vomit. 

The Morgrem chatters something he doesn't understand, but it sends the surrounding Impidimps into fits of laughter. Yurim flushes in humiliation. He never expected to be sexually harassed by goddamn pokemon when he woke up this morning. The hook in his mouth pushes deeper, digging painfully into the back of his throat and for a split second, he's actually terrified he's about to be ripped apart when a flash of light startles them all. The spear-like hair is yanked out, cutting his tongue, as all the little bastards go diving into the bushes. 

"Augh," he spits blood into the dirt. That _hurt like hell_ and now everything smells like copper.

The blinding light dissipates, leaving behind minuscule sparkles lingering in the air. 

"Not very bright, are you?" That voice... Where has he heard that voice before? Yurim squints up at his tall savior, still clutching at his bleeding mouth. That fluffy hair and sneer of disdain can only belong to one person. Gym Leader Bede, four years his junior... Bede pinches the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. "To think I'd come home from such a humiliating defeat just to be trifled with this. You."

Yurim staggers to his feet, more than a little miffed but in too much pain to snap back.

Bede points right at his face, "Open your mouth. Let me see it."

"Mmm," Yurim shakes his head, but the blonde's not having it. His hands are wrenched from his mouth, too bloodied now to make out the extent of the injuries.

With a click of his tongue, Bede grabs the man's jaw, uncaring how much blood stains his hands, and forcibly opens his mouth. Amethyst eyes narrow in silent observation. "Hmph. It's not that bad. Come."

Yurim winces as he's suddenly yanked along by his cardigan, only just noticing the Hatterene creepily trailing behind them. Really--it's unthinkable how this kid treats his elders! A wounded man, no less. Yurim's opinion of him just got that much lower. Miraculously, they reach the mouth of the woods within minutes. Bede "kindly" escorts him all the way to the clinic where he's forced to have nurses prying his mouth open and torturing him with all kinds of "treatments". He can only count his lucky stars the cuts aren't deep enough to warrant stitches...

The nurses finally leave him alone for a while, one of them promising to return with a cold compress. Yurim's slouched in a waiting room chair when Bede approaches him. "Now that you're all patched up, listen... You're not a little kid anymore, you know better than to be traipsing about the forest without a pokemon. Next time you decide to do something _idiotic_ , I won't be around to save you."

 _I did have a pokemon though_ , Yurim wants to retort, only for his heart to instantly drop.

Ohhh.... shit!

Bede's turning to leave when Yurim lunges to his feet, grabbing his sleeve. Bede tosses him a sharp look over his shoulder, clearly annoyed but that's too bad--"I need your help!" is what he wants to say, but it's hard to talk through the pain around his swollen tongue. Bede narrows his eyes. Ok... Enunciate... "I. Lost. Cutiefly. Help."

Amethyst eyes narrow even further. A cold silence passes between them before Bede shrugs him off. He looks pissed. "You wait till now to say this?"

His wrists throb from pangs of guilt. Sure he's not fond of the little guy but Cutiefly was genuinely worried for him and he just...left it behind. 

Bede lets out another frustrated sigh. The boy seems to be getting more and more agitated by the minute. He jabs a finger into Yurim's chest, who immediately crumples under the pain. "You stay here before you make a bigger mess than you already have."

"But...!" Yurim makes to argue when the nurse pops back into the waiting room with the promised compress.

"Keep it chilled and apply to your wounds for about five minutes. You can do this multiple times a day... Er, are you alright?"

Yurim glances at her helplessly, his face falling. No, no, no, now's not the time to feel sorry for yourself. With renewed determination, he takes the compress with a heartfelt thank you before dashing out the door to catch up. It's already getting late, but in Ballonlea with its abundance of bioluminescent flora, that just means the town glows brighter. So too do the soft lights cast by forest shrooms cover more ground, lighting up the walkable path, though the shadows of the forests are deeper now. Yumin slows to a jog, finding it painful to breathe so heavily. Looking around, there's no gym leader in sight. For better or for worse...

He swallows hard, a cold sweat beading at his brow at the attack still fresh in his mind. Rescuing Cutiefly is a must, but he doesn't need a repeat episode. Coming to a stop at a familiar tree, Yurim makes the difficult decision to wait it out. He pants softly, leaning against the cold bark, and waits.

Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours. He's sitting with his back against the tree and his knees drawn to his chest, eyes heavy with sleep, when a familiar voice snaps him awake. "...How hard-headed can you be..." 

"Y-You're back," Yurim jumps to his feet, slightly dizzy. The sight of the annoying little fairy-type buzzing at Bede's side is enough to abate his exhaustion--he could almost kiss the stupid little thing! 

He makes to touch it when suddenly he's shoved hard against the tree bark, an iron grip on his shoulder digging into his skin. There's cold anger in Bede's eyes as he hisses, "Don't _ever_ let me catch you being this irresponsible again. It's one thing to risk your own life. It's another thing entirely to endanger innocent pokemon. Better yet, do the world a favor and never step foot outside your home again."

"...!" He can't even say anything in his defense...

Cutiefly seems more than up for the task though, angrily tapdancing on Bede's shoulder till the blonde releases him with one last shove.

* * *

Stepping into his auntie's house and slipping out of his dirty boots, Yurim couldn't feel more dejected. The entire house is filled with the smell of casserole and even though he's not eaten since the morning, the smell does nothing to stir his appetite. He doubts he could endure the pain anyway. Auntie's sitting on the couch watching a sitcom when he enters the living room. She turns to greet him, smiling brightly at first before her face drops. "Sweetie, what happened? You look like a Swovet!"

"Fell down," he lies, pressing the compress to his cheek. It's not cold anymore, though. 

His aunt eyes him a bit longer before shaking her head. She'll let it drop for now. "There's casserole in the kitchen if you're hungry."

"Thanks," says Yurim, pushing into his bedroom. Normally he'd slam the door quickly for privacy's sake but today he lets Cutiefly follow him inside before gingerly shutting the door. For what it's worth, the little bugger seems totally fine. He imagines it must feel vindicated after the day they've had. He lets himself fall back onto his bed, the sheets cool to the touch. Everything hurts. Especially his pride. Cutiefly settles on his chest, it's dopey looking black legs splayed about his shirt as it stares at him. He idly strokes its tiny head with an index finger, his mind wandering back to that awful boy.

He'd seen Bede plenty of times before on the telly, but he's never bothered attending stadium matches or meet-and-greets so he's never had to chance to see him up close. Bede's taller than he thought he'd be, too. And a lot nastier. After today, he sincerely hopes he never sees him again. From what he's heard, the boy's quite charming to his fans--which is unfathomable now. He can still feel those steely cold fingers gripping his jaw... 

_Ugh, I don't wanna remember anymore..._

Yurim rolls over, content to just sleep it off and forget all this ever happened. He barely misses crushing Cutiefly, who flew up in panic only to settle down again on his shoulder. 

* * *

Yurim knows it's a dream right away. He can always tell.

He's stood alone once again in Glimwood Tangle, only the trees are taller, the eyes leering from the grass are meaner, and the ground keeps shifting beneath his feet. He tries to walk, but loch of dark purple hair shoot from the shadows to wrap around his ankles, yanking his feet back and forcing him to his hands and knees. He's barely got time to think before a cold hand grabs his chin, yanking his head up to meet the hard gaze of Ballonlea's gym leader.

Bede watches him without any emotion, though there's something in those eyes that make him shudder. "I see you still haven't learned," says Bede, a corner of his lips twitching upward. His eyes narrow with cruel intent, "I suppose I must drill it into your skull." 

"Wh-what are you..." Yurim trails off as the hand on his chin moves to the back of his head. Pain explodes at the back of his skull as Bede fists into jet black hair and pulls. His hands automatically fly up to grab onto Bede's legs as his open mouth is pressed against the boy's flaccid member. He can almost taste the fabric separating them.

"That's right... Good boy," Bede's voice rings loud in his ear, mocking him.

Yurim can't express the horror he feels toward the shaft hardening under his tongue. The hand in his hair forces him to drag his tongue, reopening the cut with an unbearable tear. Blood and saliva soak into the white cloth, soaking it. Suddenly his head's yanked back so Bede can tug down his shorts, his cock springing free. The boy strokes himself, impossibly long and thick and dripping precum. A malicious grin splits his face as Yurim stares wide-eyed, trying desperately to shake his head "no" against the tight grip in his hair.

"Open your mouth."

_No, no, no..._

"No!"

Yurim flies up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He swivels wildly about before realizing he's alone in his room. Safe. Slowly, the toxic adrenaline ebbs away, leaving in its wake an erratic heartbeat and faint pants for air. A dream. Only a dream. No, not a dream--a nightmare. He rubs his face, letting out an agonized groan. Judging by how dark it is, it's way too early to be up and about, but the thrum of his heart and the dull ache in his mouth won't allow him to go back to sleep.

He collapses back against his pillow, flinging an arm over his eyes. What a horrible start to the day...


End file.
